Defining Lives
by Cat Alex
Summary: COMPLETE, formerly Better Than Me. Asmodean goes through the events of his life that led him to the path of the dark. Explains why he had his mother dragged off by Myrddraal and includes an OC in the form of a sister. Three different perspectives.
1. Better Than Me

**Defining Lives**

**_A short trilogy of perspectives_**

By Cat Alex

**Better Than Me**

My sister, always the better out of the two of us. I could not have asked for a kinder sister than Eila, but now our sibling bond lies in tatters. I was born twenty five years before she was, my mother as an Aes Sedai could afford such gaps of time. But even the elder, I was no less responsible and could not handle how our lives were weaved by the Pattern.

I, the one chosen, no, _destined_ to be a composer that would never be forgotten. A prodigy, a grand sensation that would stir every heart of the age! My dear sister left to the side while I was bathed in glory as a youth. Both of us were fair children, each with dark eyes and hair against pale skin that gave us our striking looks. I have no fear of boasting; it is simple truth.

I composed, my mother ever doting on me as teachers taught me everything they knew, both in composition and the harnessing of my extra gift of channelling the One Power. Another rarity I was blessed with where my sister was not. And much of this took place in our small port town of Shorelle where every child learnt my name and became jealous of Joar Nessosin gaining the glory while they languished on their fishing boats.

And my sister, left in the background, but ever smiling and cheering me on while she made her way through a less than special school while I had my extensive training. To tell it now reminds me of how little attention really was paid to her. Even in a small Shorelle learning facility she worked harder than them all and brought home grades and accolades better than seen in many years. Still, I was the eldest and the one our mother lavished all her attentions on, barely taking heed to Eila's achievements. I too ignored her, focused on my works aged forty, but with the slowing looked to be in my early twenties. I was immersed in my work; even at the age of fifteen year old my compositions were being listened too across the world and nothing would distract me from my calling. If they were impressed when I was still in training at fifteen, what would they think of my honed work these years later? It was selfishness, I now realise, but it is too late to change. Perhaps even today I am somewhat selfish, but to survive, one must be.

Mother was so proud of me when I finished my training with more than passable grades to go on as a full time composer when I was in my late twenties. Now free of the shackles of learning, I could compose full time and come into my full potential while Eila was young. Then I truly would shake the world with my music; I would extract their tears with the corea, soothe their fears with the balfone and shatter their hearts with mere use of the obaen. My third name was earned around that time, so I was now proudly presented as Joar Addam Nessosin. My sister beamed with pride, as did my mother. But as I sat alone in my own apartments bought with the riches gained from previous compositions, I found my mind blank and my heart empty. The notes would not come, no matter how I tried.

The frustration grew over the years and even worse, people began to tire of waiting for new works. Other composers were waiting for their time and with myself unable to produce more than regurgitated old pieces and odd notes they took my place and began to entertain the world themselves. Eila over that time grew up, now nearing her mid twenties. She consoled me while I furiously broke the harp my mother had had specially made for me. With the diminishing fame, so did my mother's interest in me fade and die. Eila had now left her school and found herself in a position on the Shorelle council. Within a matter of months she had been transferred to Tzora, her responsibilities in turn growing with the added size of the city, but handled so smoothly she could have passed for Aes Sedai.

Mother became more interested in Eila's affairs, her power slowly but surely growing within the Tzora government until she was once more transferred to sort the affairs of V'saine within a few years. Acclaim gathered about her while mine diminished and I was left with a raging block on my creative abilities. I did not see my mother anymore and love faded into hate; boiling, tempestuous hate that ripped my block and left me able to create compositions once more. However, they were changed into dark, morbid affairs that were considered quite good, but weren't as highly appreciated as other pieces, feeding my jealous fury.

I only saw Eila in person again when she gained her third name just in her hundreds. She humbly presented herself to me when I visited Paaren Disen – her new home firmly in position in government and popular as ever – where she told me she was now Eila Arina Nessosin. I remember giving her a faltering smile, my own slights taken over the past several decades preventing me from showing more than that smile. A brief embrace and I excused myself. Mother had no interest in me whatsoever, and while I acted as if she was no concern to me anymore, her unawareness of me hurt more than I could say. It made me hate her even more, that she made me feel a desperate need to please her, to be a son she could be proud of. My compositions were listened to by many, but still did not reach the heights that other pieces reached.

Eila spoke to me several times and offered to sho-wing her way over to where I resided in Comelle, but I refused every time. I could not face her; her optimism, her bright demeanour towards me. I could not face the power she had worked so hard for, all that acclaim she had gathered. I couldn't bear it, especially where in our conversations she would talk of Mother's visits. Eila quietly informed me that she would no longer speak of me, though Eila could never fathom why. I could, though. She only saw failure in me, an unfulfilled potential. As to whether she believed I hadn't worked hard enough, or she had misjudged me, I never knew.

Hate burned fierce and I swore to myself as I played the shama with ferocity that I would have revenge upon her. I did in the end.

Pain began to course through me as I reached my mid two hundreds, for my sister did not have such an extension on her life as I. Aged two hundred and thirteen, my sister Eila Arina Nessosin died head of the Paaran Disen government. I attended the procession Paaran Disen held for her, trapped in my own private reverie. She was gone and I could see our mother openly weep, while I stood blankly watching the march. I had nothing to hold on to now Eila was gone. It was a matter of opportunity before I found my place in the world.

When first news reached the world of the disaster that had occurred within the Sharom and the spreading unrest and dissatisfaction caused by the Bore. And so the Collapse began and I finally discovered my opportunity for revenge and a place of regard and remembrance in the world – turning to the Dark One. He invested me with the power aged two hundred and seventy six and I was presented with an eternity to compose my songs while others perished as war broke out.

I was renamed Asmodean and any knowledge of Joar Addam Nessosin was cast away in rejection. The world fell apart and all I cared about was music and revenge. In both mine and my mother's heart, Eila would always be better than me. With the power of the Dark One behind me, I would show her different and prove myself.

Mother had been staying in Mar Ruois when I struck. I had been trained well in the One Power despite my preferred career in music and could wield it with ease. She was severed from the True Source personally by me. And that is when she was dragged away by Myrddraal, her screams. I watched with no expression and though I desperately wanted to feel some sort of weight from my chest, there was none. Just hollowness.

And my story is almost complete. My sister who would forever be better than me dead, my mother worse than dead and I ended up sealed within the Bore until my time of release came. Now I hide like a hunted animal, waiting for an opportunity. Perhaps in this age I will prove myself and maybe power will come to me here. I could rule.

I hope.

AN: A short concept on what events drove our hero Asmodean to turn to the side of the dark and why he had his mother taken by Myrddraal. Just a thought. I always thought it was a bit odd that none of the Forsaken seemed to have siblings or loved ones - I mean LTT got a wife, why not a few others? Anyway, I hope you liked it.


	2. Drifting From Me

**Drifting From Me**

By Cat Alex

I always knew my Mother and brother were different from me. Mother explained to me from a young age about Aes Sedai and channelling. Mother smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling though her face was smooth as if she was the same age as the other children's mothers, but she was over three hundred years old. Plus, she already had a child aged twenty-five; my brother, Joar. He was kind and gentle, if awkward around me when I was a child. He was a famed composer since before I was born and Mother cherished him as the favourite, while she treated me with much love yet… still, she had a sparkle in the eyes both Joar and I shared with her when she spoke of what my big brother was doing. I was young though and didn't understand, and anyway I did not mind. I have many fond memories.

"_Joar! I want a piggyback!" the small six year old commanded imperiously; her dark eyes that matched the older man's exactly gleamed. Her hands were placed on her hips, her face adamant and the man sighed before nodding._

_She grinned and giggled, cheering as she hopped onto his back, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and he reluctantly tried to gallivant across the field a mile from his old house, where his mother and sister stayed. _

"_Thirty-one and she made to do _this_," he muttered as his sister dug her feet into his ribs, making him charge forward back to the house. Their mother lived on the edge of Shorelle, claiming she wanted to have the best of both worlds; a city to hand as well as stretches of countryside. So Eila could play, their mother had claimed. Joar did not want to play with Eila when he could be composing, or talking to people who mattered and could hold a decent conversation with him. But their mother had insisted that he get to know his sister, her voice lowering as she explained to him that she didn't think she had the spark. No spark, no long life as they had. Eila would turn out like their late father; dead at one hundred and eighty-three when Eila was barely two. A grim affair._

"_Joar, faster!" the girl yelled near his ear and Joar cringed before running on. The brat could stay with their mother until she could hold a proper conversation, Joar thought with irritation. She wasn't his responsibility. _

Everyone knew Joar's name, being the child musical prodigy, and from that I gained a little notoriety being 'the Nessosin girl'. I had little to no musical aptitude, but I was a pretty bright child and worked hard. As much as I loved my brother, I was desperate to escape being 'the Nessosin girl' and becoming just Eila Nessosin. Perhaps with a third name when I had got older. So I worked as hard as I could, getting top grades throughout, despite Mother not really taking notice of them. When Joar came by, he always picked a few up and gave me an encouraging smile, his head tipped to the side as if he was trying to work me out. I was just glad _someone_ took notice of me. So I worked even harder, desperate to impress and becoming something in the world. As much as I loved Mother, she did not care for me as she did for Joar. It made me angry when I was a teenager, but I kept it to myself, instead working as hard as I could. I would make something of myself like my brother and escape her forever.

"_Do you want a handkerchief?" Joar asked, his eyes filled with concern. Eila had burst into a bout of frustrated tears while talking to him from his house in Comelle. It was supposed to be a happy weekend visit before she continued her studies back home, not far from completion. A chance for the siblings to bond, according to their mother. Joar was not convinced by her speech, instinct telling him she just wanted Eila out of her hair for a few days. He did not mind. He was finding his creativity on a low ebb at the time anyway. His little sister would be a welcome break from the monotony of trying to find that perfect composition lurking in the back of his head. And then she had started crying angry tears while ranting to him about how their mother was ignoring her achievements. All Joar could do was put an arm around her slender shoulders and squeeze her arm reassuringly. He knew that Eila was finding Mother difficult, but there was nothing to be done. She knew that it wouldn't be long before she could find a place in society and get away. Joar had the feeling that Eila would shine in the world. Not as much as he, but he was an important composer and she seemed practically a child to him aged fifteen while he was forty, though he looked as youthful as ever. When he thought about it, he had been composing masterpieces at her age. Perhaps she was older than he took her for._

"_I feel better," Eila said calmly, the rims of her eyes red and her pale face slightly blotchy. Joar stood and strolled over to the large area where he stored his myriad of instruments. Tilting his head onto his side, he peered at her for a moment before picking up the balfone and playing soothing tunes. Eila began to feel glad her brother took even a slight interest in her when he saw her. She knew that he had his own life to live and that he probably completely forgot about her when she wasn't around, but that was okay. She was used to being forgotten; their mother was a classic example. But at least Joar really made an effort. _

"_Thank you," she mumbled, feeling her face. She must look awful, she thought. Joar lightly shook his head and put the balfone away._

"_Come on, Eila. There is an interesting show being performed in the town centre," he informed her and she nodded with a falsely bright smile, before following him out. She would show their mother what she could become._

Being a teenager had been painful, but I won through with the support of Joar and the tolerance of our mother. It was a proud day when I found a place in the Shorelle government and began forging a path to power. I was determined to find my own way through life and as much as I loved my mother, I had to get away from her. It was only a matter of a few months of hard work and correct decision making before I was transferred to a better job within the Tzora government. I was now around twenty-four and becoming happier alone. But everything else was falling apart. Mother was moving her interest from Joar to me. He was finding life hard, a creative block leaving him unable to find a tune. It had been going for years, his frustration becoming more apparent every time I saw him. Once I had my own job, it had become easier to see him in his beautiful house in Comelle. But he was growing more and more fraught until he began to reach breaking point.

"_I cannot take it any longer!" Joar exclaimed, his eyes glittering with tears of frustration Eila knew well, as she had experienced them herself nine years ago. Frustration briefly changed to anger and with angry tears spilling over he picked up his prized harp their mother had paid to be expertly crafted from gold. But he faltered and put it down again, his eyes smouldering before he took hold of _saidin_ and tore it apart with flows of Air. Eila watched with fascination as her brother wielded the One Power, now setting the pieces on fire as best as he could for metal, watching them melt with a smile twisted with distaste. _

"_Perhaps I should not have done that," he said shakily, taking a seat next to Eila and placing his face in his hands. She wasn't sure what to do, her brother being forty-nine but looking her age. Gingerly, she rubbed his back and after a few minutes he sat up and wiped his face._

"_Eila, my fame is waning and with it, Mother's love. She only loves me because I was her special prodigy. And now… she doesn't care. You know what's she's like," Joar explained, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears as he addressed at her. Eila knew how much Joar depended on Mother's praise, praise she no longer wanted from the woman now she knew she had a respected job that brought honour from people who she wanted to be commended by. _

"_I know," Eila replied sadly. She knew only too well._

I progressed through the governments, gaining more power and more interest from Mother, though I did not want it. I tolerated her though and helped run V'Saine to the best of my ability. I took time as the years passed to visit Joar whenever I could. By now, he could compose again, but I remember them sounding bitter and darker than anything before, as if the Dark One was playing. But it was only my brother, even if he did speak to me about his growing hatred for our Mother. It wasn't undeserved either; she began ignoring Joar altogether, despite my protests to her. Whenever I had to speak to her on one of her impromptu visits, I would talk of how Joar was doing and how she had to visit him, but she would not speak of it. Her face became like stone and I had to eventually let it drop, to my annoyance.

As the years passed, Joar began to drift from my sight. I didn't see him for many years until I was awarded my third name when I was a hundred and six. It made me chuckle to think it had taken me so many decades to attain my third name when Joar had one in his twenties. I did not mind it had taken so long; it was more than worth it.

"_So, now you are Eila Arina Nessosin," Joar said with a smile on his tired face as he made his way through the crowd. Eila turned around, her face alight with joy at the sound of his voice._

"_Joar!" she said delightedly and threw her arms around him. Eila had not seen her brother in so long and was surprised at his worn he looked despite his youthful face. Joar was now one hundred and thirty-one and was dressed finely in blood red._

"_I can't believe how far we have come," he said with a smile, "A hundred years ago I was running around like a fool in a field with a petulant young girl on my back. She had been quite annoying." The smile turned into a chuckle._

_Eila laughed with him. She remembered that day, the second time she had ever seen her older brother. _

"_You were sulky that day," she recalled, "but don't worry, I won't demand a piggyback today."_

_Joar shook his head, the crowd of various members of the community – the important ones of course – drank and laughed and danced. All held in Eila's honour. His own performance would be held later in her honour. Joar felt a bitter tang, but he pushed it down. He was proud of his sister and focused his burning hatred on their mother. _

My life was happy. I was content to live alone. I can say there were a few people in my life where we spent some happy times together, but ultimately I was alone and glad to have my life to command alone. I spoke to Joar as often as I could manage now I was head of the Paaran Disen government. I was so proud to lead Paaran Disen, but I kept my modesty and did not speak of my job with Joar. I tried to get him to come and visit me, but he was so reluctant I had to let it lie. I remember that once I mentioned to him that Mother would no longer speak of him and he was so upset, I dropped it. I couldn't understand how Mother could ignore her once favoured child and not love him for who he was. He may not have been the most famous composer in the world, but he was more than respected.

I did my best to ensure safety for the world, running the government to the best of my ability as I had always done. Time wore on and finally caught up with me. I was two hundred and thirteen when I died. It was of natural causes and peaceful. I could not have asked for more. With my death, I was left with hope. Hope that Joar would be alright, that Mother would see the error of her ways and that perhaps one day I would be spun out again by the Wheel of Time.

AN: I was sketching and I sketched a picture of what I thought Eila would look like. When I saw her eyes, I knew I had to write something from her perspective, her side of the story. I hope it was interesting to see it from her point of view. I never intended Better Than Me to have a companion, but hey, there we go. Hope you like it.


	3. Motherly Mistakes

**Motherly Mistakes**

By Cat Alex

Children are important. Even before I knew I could channel and became Aes Sedai, the knowledge was one I knew to be true. How they are important can vary greatly, from children that support and care for their parents, to children who bring down their parents in fire, blood and ashes. The power of children is great; they are needed to continue lines, to complete lives, to carry burdens and become what their parents wanted to be.

I had lived for over two hundred years with this knowledge, but still childless. I was serving the people, not much more than a busybody within the Hall of Servants. I had spent my childhood in the small town of Shorelle, which grew into a city as the decades passed. As Aes Sedai I possessed somewhat upright and almost cold qualities, but a part of me inside yearned for children. But to marry and bear children was rare among Aes Sedai. Yet still, I wished to break the mould.

Aged two hundred and ninety-six I met Phinlai Nessosin in my home city of Shorelle while on some business for the Hall of Servants. The business concerned the Shorelle government, but that did not matter. What mattered was the fisherman hauling his nets from his medium sized fishing boat at the harbour. The weather that day had been so beautiful; the fierce sun sparkling off the cool, calm azure sea. All the colours had seemed so intense, the shade of his boat, his intense blue eyes contrasting with his dark hair. I had such a cool calm exterior, the midday heat not touching me while he sweated, his large arms heaving salty fish filled nets. I don't know what caught my eyes, perhaps his muscled arms, his charming smile and twinkling blue eyes.

We spoke, I trying valiantly to be cool and serene when a passionate fire burned in me while he was amused at my interest. I think he knew even then how I felt when on the outside I tried to hide it. Perhaps I was not a very good Aes Sedai. But soon I married the man and became Liya Nessosin, though the Hall of Servants found it distasteful, especially that it was someone who held no power. A common fisherman held no office, but I did not care. I loved him and that's all that mattered. My position within the Hall of Servants was lessened and I turned my attention to more domestic matters. Phinlai was already one hundred and fifty-five, but I spent many months preparing for a child before actually having one. I suppose that was quite a strange and methodical manner of handling it. The Aes Sedai ways bled into my daily activities, but either I did not notice or hid it from my own sight. It was only on later reflection I realised what a strange thing to do it was.

Joar was born and we were both proud parents. As soon as I looked into my baby's eyes, I knew he was destined for great things.

_She looked into the eyes of this tiny bundle swaddled in her arms. His eyes were a very dull blue, sure to turn the same colour as her dark eyes within days. She had her own baby boy, a child just as she wanted. A grand responsibility compared to her job within the Hall of Servants. He watched her unblinkingly, as if she stunned him. No cries, just watching. Phinlai grinned at both mother and child, clearly pleased._

"_What shall we be naming him?" the man asked in his deep voice and Liya gave a small smile of tenderness._

"_How about something like… Jarin? I think it should begin with a J. He feels like a… I can't find the name to say it." Liya said, her eyes crinkling slightly with concentration, searching her mind for the boy's name._

"_Joar. Let us call him Joar," Phinlai said firmly and a broad smile spread across Liya's face._

"_Joar," she tried out his name softly, "that's it." And Joar Nessosin had been born._

I cared for Joar almost as if he were intricate porcelain, carefully playing with him and feeding him with a care. I mothered him too much, Phinlai always said, but I did not care. I wanted to spend every moment with the boy, especially if it turned out my genes had not passed and he was not a channeller. I would have precious time then.

Joar grew and with it I saw the first signs of his ability as a musician. Aged seven, playing a harp like an expert. His teachers immediately picked up on his skill with instruments and together we put him special classes to hone this skill. Joar was full of surprises. His skills as a composer and musician grew and made me the proudest woman in Shorelle. Once Joar had been born, I dropped my duties within the Hall of Servants and focused on my family. I bound him tight to me with strings both of motherly love and that an Aes Sedai would wield. It is hard to break such ingrained habits, tying strings to oneself and pulling them with barely a thought. The need to spin controlling ties and use them as and when necessary was something all Aes Sedai utilised. And it does not blend with a family life, not when you bind them up in your own personal affairs, when you want them to be something they are not and pull the strings tight to make them become it anyway. But the strings had not been that strong then.

Joar was tested for the spark and I was told that he could channel. I was even prouder of him, it knew no bounds. He was taught to channel and about composition. I pushed Joar, encouraged him to learn fast and well. And he did. He was young and looked up to me and clung to me so tight when he was a little boy. Joar was never close with his father, or his father with him. I don't know why. Perhaps it was because Joar was a very gifted boy, intelligent beyond his years while his father was just a fisherman. I will never know.

Joar grew up so quickly and his talent kept his mind occupied. Aged fifteen, people were revelling his gift for compositions and were listening to him all over the world. World renowned at fifteen. It was too good to be true. And he was growing up so fast, I realised. I began to feel the urge to have another child, though by non-channelling standards Phinlai was getting old. We spoke about it and decided to have a second child. I was so alight and happy with the knowledge a second protégé could be on its way. I had high hopes for my second child, though worried about the twenty-five year age gap between the siblings. Joar had other concerns now he was older. He lived alone in Comelle, working on his compositions.

I had Eila and she did not turn out as Joar did. She was a beautiful baby, looking much like Joar when he was young. Joar briefly visited me after I had given birth and I knew he tried so hard to appear interested, but a baby sister meant little to him. I understood and was still proud of his work. The glory he carried. Now I look back, I think I tried to be extra proud because his father was almost… uninterested. It was especially noticeable when he took such an interest in Eila. But that may have been because he knew his time was drawing near. And when Eila turned only two years old, he died. I managed fine; I had been Aes Sedai for near three hundred years previously, so it was not as hard as I thought it would be. I surprised myself how easily I adapted and worried about my lack of sadness at Phinlai's passing. But I had Eila to care for.

Eila was indeed a beautiful child, but she did not bear any noticeable talents like Joar had. And it appeared she did not have the inborn spark, which greatly saddened me. That I would surpass my daughter in life and have to bury her cut deep inside, but I hid it. She met her brother properly when she was four years old, when he was twenty-nine. He was so awkward during the whole affair, it was sweet to watch him try and play with her as best as he could. Eila adored him from the moment their matching dark eyes met, the toothy smile that hinted mischief.

"_Who's that?" Eila asked her mother in her sweet innocent voice that rang like a tinkling bell. Her mother looked over from Joar to Eila, who stood in the doorway. Her head didn't even reach the door handle and she stared up at her mother and brother with open curiosity. Joar studied his sister with equal inquisitiveness. She had grown into a whole different person from the brief time he saw her when she was only a day or two old._

_Liya got to her knees and motioned for the little girl to come to her, which Eila did and her mother put an arm around her small shoulders._

"_This, Eila, is your brother that I told you about, remember?" her mother explained and the little girl's face brightened considerably._

"_Joar!" she squealed and ran from her mother to the anxious man with dark hair and eyes, wrapping her arms around his knees. Joar didn't know what to do, looking to his mother for an answer. All he received was a motion to hug the little girl. With a worried frown, he awkwardly bent down and clumsily hugged her, making Eila laugh and run outside._

_Joar looked to his mother again, uncertainty plain in his eyes. "What do I do, mother?" He ran a hand through his hair and his eyes moved to the door his little sister had careered out of._

"_Joar, you follow her. And play," Liya told her son tenderly and the young man gave a brief smile and nod and then followed where Eila had gone. A smile spread slowly across the woman's lips. They would be fine._

But Eila began to grow up and I found myself losing interest, which I knew was a bad thing but I could not help myself. My life had been devoted to Joar for twenty-five years before Eila had even been born and the strings I had tied to him half unknowingly were in my hands where Eila had none. She passed undetected, collecting awards and praise I did not acknowledge until much later when I knew in my heart the damage had already been done. I shouldn't have forgotten her, but I did. My mind was too focused on the prestige Joar was claiming.

When he gained his third name and I was ecstatic; more than ecstatic. I glowed with pride throughout the award ceremony and for a long time afterward, telling anyone who would listen to me within Shorelle. Still Eila remained in the shadows, though she was happy for her brother. She was always a happy child.

It wasn't until later I saw how the two siblings had been on opposite ends of a pair of scales. When Joar had all the glory, he soared while Eila was unnoticed. And as she began to climb her way up the political ladder as she got older, Joar seemed to fade into the background and became forgotten by the world. It was my mistake, my foolish mistake to tip in accordance to those scales like an Aes Sedai weighing up the situation to their favour. But it had gone on too long to stop.

And so I continued this way, leaning toward my less favoured daughter and away from my favourite son. Whenever Eila tried to mention Joar, I would ignore it despite the questioning pain in her dark eyes. The regret of my actions made it too great to bear speaking of him. I knew I had been foolish and could patch the rift between us, but I wasn't sure if the rift was too great to be bridged. My courage failed me, a weakness I hid to the best of my ability. Externally I appeared calm and steely, but internally I felt desperation tinge my every thought.

One of the most terrible pains in my life was when the knowledge that I would outlive Eila came to pass. She died at only two hundred and thirteen when I was five hundred and thirty-four and still strong as ever. I did not see Joar at the elaborate funeral procession they had held in Paaran Disen for Eila, but I knew he was there. He truly loved his sister.

I probably could have found him and spoke, but I did not. I mourned privately for a long time, not caring that the world was beginning to fail. The accident at the Collam Daam meant nothing to me. I didn't care any longer. I only began to take notice when I heard Joar had gone over to the Dark One. It shook me deeply hearing people call him Asmodean and refuse to use his true name. I began to move about as if running from him, but I didn't have any hope to escape my own son. He was my flesh and blood. Children are fated to decide their own parent's fate when they are grown up. Joar had chosen to bring me down in fire, blood and ashes, rather than to continue the line of Nessosin's. He completed my life in a final manner.

He visited me during the Collapse after he had gone over to the Dark One. I knew I would have to confront him one day. It was more him confronting me and I submitting. The twisted look of hatred on his face finally drove home how much I had hurt him, how he had taken it so badly. He really had been a clingy child and never grew out of depending on me in all sorts of ways. Emotional support usually. It was his right to hate me though; I was truly sorry I effectively abandoned him. If I could turn back time… but that is pointless. It cannot be undone and my son was right to exact the price he did.

The severing had hurt, the loss of such glory and joy, but not as much as the pain within me that cried piteously. If I had done things differently…

Joar had turned to the shadow and led a personal vendetta against me. I tried to run and hide, but he tracked me down like a wild animal and had me taken away by Myrddraal. Of all the things he could have done, that had been terrible. But still I did not hate my son. I kept repeating in my mind _'It is his right… It is his right'_ with no care for myself. I let him exact my penance and saw his eyes stare dully back as a scream escaped my lips while I was carried away. I hoped that he would be happy now I was suffering. Suffering for his happiness was fine with me.

I died like that, tormented by Myrddraal and unable to touch the True Source. Both were hard blows, but for my children… It always came back to children and their importance. It was my motherly mistake of caring too much for my children that led me down this path. Was it so motherly, though? I recognised through my haze of pain that spending so much of my life as Aes Sedai had intervened with my ability as a mother. Using my children so had been a fatal mistake and one I carried with me for the rest of my life. In Shayol Ghul, my life did not extend far. I died, tormented but glad I had made my son happy and paid the price of my mistake. I remembered Eila's death and wept only for her and Joar as I drew my last breath.

Children had been my life and my death. Their importance in life cannot be recognised until you have them, but by then you have sealed your fate. Your fate rests in theirs. Love and care well for them and you have ensured their power. To live for them is to die for them, so shall it be.

I hope to see Eila again, and Joar one day.

AN: This is properly finished. It's only a trilogy of a sorts – trilogy makes it sound long, or good or something. These were merely musings on my part. Once I did Asmodean though, I thought about Eila, and then once I did Eila, I thought about their mother. So this was it; effectively same story, with its own variation according to who's perspective it was written from. Three sides to pretty much the same story. Hope you liked it. Thanks, CA out.


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